


Cautiously into the Dark

by JoaoCon



Series: A Series of Entirely Forbidden Liaisons [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoaoCon/pseuds/JoaoCon
Summary: Tonks gets on wonderfully with Sirius and his friends, much to her mother's horror. She wisely keeps the exact nature of her relationship with Remus Lupin to herself, as horror would be far too kind a word for how Andromeda would react. Although soon her love life will be the least of anyone's worries. AU: Tonks at school with the Marauders. Pre-First Wizarding War.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Series: A Series of Entirely Forbidden Liaisons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706164
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. The Bruise

"Nymphadora?"

The sound of her hated first name drew Tonks from the book she had been absorbed in. Miffed, she directed her most pointed glare towards her mother, who simply rolled her eyes and continued speaking to her.

"You have a bruise on your neck."

Andromeda's tone wasn't accusatory, but Tonks knew her mother well enough to read between the lines. Cursing her slipped morph, she quickly disappeared her rising blush. She knew exactly the 'bruise' her mother meant.

"I do, yes. It can't be news to you that your only child has the balance of a drunken mountain troll?"

Her mother huffed, exasperated as usual.

"Yes dear, I'm aware. Although from here it rather looks like you've fallen neck first into a family of leeches."

Realizing too late that her sip of tea had been a mistake, Tonks sputtered the steaming liquid onto the pages of her book, quickly launching into a stream of curses. Madam Pince had been explicit in her warnings about taking library books home over the break.

Andromeda simply rolled her eyes and wandlessly vanished the blooming stain from the pages of her daughter's book.

"Honestly Nymphadora, you act as if I've never been sixteen. Tell me about this young man."

Now unable to morph away her deepening blush, Tonks hid behind her cup of rapidly cooling tea.

"There's no 'young man' mum, please drop it, for the love of Merlin."

Andromeda's eyebrows raised skeptically from behind her own cup of tea.

"There are other ways I can find out, you do realize?"

Tonks' mouth dropped open, her teacup dropping to the table with a slosh.

"You wouldn't!"

Andromeda primly placed her own teacup onto its allotted coaster, waving away her daughter's latest mess.

"Wouldn't I?"

"Mother! Don't you dare look into my mind! Daaaaaad!"

The tail end of Tonks' sentence trailed behind her as she sprinted out of the sitting room and up the stairs, tripping only once. Andromeda shook her head lightly at her daughter's antics and picked up her tea again as Ted entered the room, scratching the back of his head.

"What now then?"

Andromeda looked up innocently at her husband.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Edward."

Ted dropped heavily into what had been his daughter's seat, sighing and running his hand down his face, ever wearier as the month of December passed.

"Honestly Dromeda, can't you just leave her be for now?"

Looking at her exhausted husband, Andromeda dropped the prim posture she normally maintained around others.

"I'm worried about her."

Ted sighed, having anticipated this conversation.

"I know love, but why?"

"She's secretive, she's moody, and I know you saw the hickey. She's having trouble controlling her morphing."

"She's sixteen, I don't think any of that's abnormal."

"There's a boy, I'm sure of it."

Ted sighed again, heavier than ever.

"Probably, yeah. But she's sixteen Dromeda, do you remember how we were at sixteen?"

"Exactly!"

Only mildly startled by his wife's sudden outburst, Ted raised an eyebrow prompting her to continue.

"When we were sixteen we were being so secretive because you're muggleborn and my family are a bunch of blood supremacists. It would have been wholly forbidden. When have we ever forbidden Nymphadora from associating with anyone?"

Andromeda watched as her husband scratched his chin, taking in her argument.

"Well, we haven't. Of course not. But maybe she's just embarrassed. Maybe he's not much to look at, or not all that bright, or – Merlin forbid – he could be a Slytherin. Or perhaps not a 'he' at all."

Leaning back in her chair, Andromeda drew her eyebrows together.

"I suppose any of those things could be true. But Ted, when has Nymphadora ever been shy? About anything? I'm just concerned it's something worse."

"Like?"

"What if he's much older? A professor? Or what if he treats her poorly? Or – oh, Merlin – Ted, what if he's related?! Sirius is only a year older than her, and I've heard her say he's handsome!"

Ted sat forward and reached out to calm his quickly panicking wife.

"Andromeda, love, calm down. Dora is about as likely to fancy Sirius as she is to start letting us all use her full name."

Andromeda snorted in response, giving a slow nod as Ted continued.

"As for the rest of it, I highly doubt our daughter is dating one of her professors. He could very well be a bit older, but I quite doubt it's anything inappropriate. And from the way she's been acting, all love struck and doe eyed, I think her mystery suitor treats her quite well. And I hardly think you threatening her with Legilimency will help matters."

Andromeda turned a light shade of pink before responding, muttering.

"She jumped to that conclusion. All I meant was that I'd ask Sirius about it."

"Uh huh," Ted muttered placatingly "of course."

\--

Out of the reaches of her mother's mind probing, Tonks sat at the cluttered desk in her room, penning a letter to her cousin Sirius.

_Sirius,_

_Much as I've always heard you talk about the Black curse of madness, I honestly thought my mother had escaped the worst of it. I WAS WRONG._

_Not even ten minutes ago she was threatening to look into my mind over what she deemed a "suspicious bruise"… Frankly I'd be more suspicious at a lack of bruises._

_Hopefully dad's managed to talk her down, but if not, d'you think James' parents would let me hang around for a few days? They seem to take pity on the children of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black._

_Anyways, how's your Christmas been? Get anything good? I've got a load of dresses again, but dad got me a broom polishing kit at least. Should help to wipe the floor with you Gryffindor prats once the new year starts._

_Your ever-irritated cousin,_

_Tonks_

\--

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he read his cousin's letter, bringing James from the other side of the sitting room to investigate.

"What's this then?"

"Seems Nymphie's having a rough holiday. Looks like Andromeda thinks she's got a bloke on the go."

James chuckled lightly as Sirius continued to snicker.

"Has she then? It would be nice if at least one of us were having any luck."

Sirius slapped James across the face with a spare piece of parchment, indignant.

"I'll have you know I have enough luck for the bunch of us!"

"Oh shove off Sirius, you right slut, I meant those of us with standards."

Snickering despite himself, Sirius just threw James a saucy wink as he penned his reply.

_Nymphie,_

_How unfortunate that dear Andromeda has succumbed to the family curse, I suppose it was only a matter of time. Do give my condolences to poor Edward._

_Suspicious bruise, eh? Finally had it off with that Ravenclaw beater then? Details please._

_Of course the Potters would be delighted to have you. For some reason they seem to think you're a better influence on James than I am. Perhaps not once I tell them about your little tryst, you saucy harlot._

_As if a broom polishing kit gives you any advantage over Gryffindor's far superior team! I suppose I can do you a kindness and leave you to your delusions though. My haul this year wasn't bad, aside from Walburga's annual Howler of course. Got a pretty sweet beater set to make up for it though, we'll have to break it in when you visit._

_Your favourite and most handsome cousin,_

_Sirius Orion Black_

\--

Fuming, Tonks aggressively penned her reply to Sirius as she finished packing her school trunk. Her father had thankfully okayed her spending the last week of the winter holidays at the Potter's, after checking with Euphemia and Fleamont himself, not trusting Sirius' assurances. Her mother was currently fit to be tied, having predictably read Sirius' reply, and had horrifyingly begun questioning her about her love life in great detail. Needless to say, she was thrilled to be getting away from home sooner rather than later, but had a detailed plan to rid Sirius of his genitals forming in her head.

_Sirius you great prat,_

_My mother reads my letters you absolute cretin. Have you ever heard of the 'Home Pregnancy Test for the Forgetful Witch'? Now I have._

_I hope you're not attached to the current configuration of your face,_

_Tonks_

_PS. Call me 'Nymphie' once more and see what happens._


	2. The Potters

Standing in line for the floo at the Leaky Cauldron with her dad, Tonks silently fumed to herself. She had detailed plans to kill Sirius and was now searching for a way she could possibly blame it on her mother when Ted interrupted her thoughts.

"She's just worried, you know."

"Dad.." she started, only to be interrupted.

"I know she's being ridiculous Dora, trust me I do. Once she's got something in her head you know how hard it is to get her off it."

Tonks nodded, still monumentally annoyed.

"Now you're getting older she feels herself losing control over your life is all, you know how your mother likes to be in control."

Tonks snorted at that. She certainly was aware.

"When your mother and I were first together, around your age, we had to keep it a secret because of her family. So now whenever she thinks you're being secretive about anything, she assumes the worst. She thinks, for whatever reason, that if you're hiding something it must be something we'd find truly horrible – something illegal or unsafe."

Tonks ducked her head, guilty for deceiving her dad, but firm in the knowledge of why she was doing so.

"Dad, it was just some boy I snogged at a party. Nothing more happened, and I'm definitely not interested in a relationship with him, or anyone right now."

Ted just chuckled lightly.

"Well, while I don't love the image of my only daughter snogging boys at parties, or anywhere, for that matter, at least you haven't shacked up with Sirius."

Tonks' eyes bugged out.

"Dad! Eww! Why would you even say that?!"

Failing to hide his laughter, Ted seemed to finally relax.

"Just an overreaction of your mother's dear, don't worry about it."

"Worry about it? Merlin dad, I'm just trying not to heave."

Ted continued to chuckle as they reached the front of the line, giving his daughter a quick kiss on the forehead and making her promise to write and stay out of trouble before she picked up a handful of floo powder and disappeared spinning into the fireplace.

\--

Tripping into the grand sitting room of the Potters' Manor, Tonks was met with the kind, if amused, faces of James' parents. She felt a blush rise up her face before she could morph it away.

"Sorry Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter. Still clumsy as ever."

James' mother laughed warmly, coming to collect her trunk and cloak.

"Oh Nymphadora, it's fine, honestly. And for the hundredth time, you must call us Euphemia and Fleamont."

Tonks blushed again.

"Of course Mrs. Po – Euphemia."

James' father chuckled lightly and smiled, bustling around the tea cart.

"And if I remember correctly, you prefer Tonks, do you not?"

Tonks nodded politely.

"Lovely name, Nymphadora," he said, still rearranging the tea cart "though it doesn't much suit you. A bit old-fashioned, no?"

"A bit, yeah. My mum's got a thing for odd names, her family's full of them."

Fleamont chuckled again.

"I'm afraid I know the type," he said with a twinkle in his eyes "we gave James such a plain name very much on purpose."

Tonks let out a snort at that, much to her horror. Thankfully Fleamont only smirked in return, offering her a cup of tea. Before she could formulate any kind of response, there was a clattering in the hallway and Sirius and James, followed closely by Peter Pettigrew, piled into the room.

"Nymphie!"

"I swear to Merlin Sirius, if you don't cut that out I'll..."

Her threat was cut short by Euphemia's laughter upon entering the room, and Tonks quickly turned a deep shade of red, instead glaring at Sirius with as much venom as she could muster.

"Oh don't stop on my account dear, I'd very much like to hear the end of that sentence. Merlin knows Sirius needs a good threatening every once and a while."

At Sirius' indignant noise the whole room burst into laughter, effectively breaking any remaining tension.

\--

Later that evening, after the best meal she'd had in months, Tonks sat with Sirius in the library, James and Peter having gone out to de-gnome the garden at Euphemia's insistence.

"I didn't realize Peter would be here."

While she had no real issue with Peter, Tonks wasn't particularly close to the boy, and had been under the impression that James and Sirius had had some sort of falling out with him.

Sirius just shrugged in response, to which she gave him a pointed look that would have made Andromeda proud.

"He came around the other day all apologetic. Seemed pretty scared about something if I'm honest. His brother's disappeared you know."

Tonks raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't, no. Do they think it's..."

She couldn't finish the sentence, but Sirius just nodded solemnly.

"He worked for the Ministry. In the Dark Creature Capture and Registration Office. Peter's not sure if he was taken or went willingly."

"Merlin. How's Peter doing then?"

Sirius seemed to think a minute.

"Honestly, it seems to have scared him straight."

"You don't think he was... thinking of joining? Do you?"

Sirius just scratched at his chin, stirring the tea that hovered in front of him with a flick of his wand.

"I think Peter very much wants to be liked."

Tonks shivered, sipping her own tea.

"I think, and don't judge me too hard for this, but I think this is the best thing that could have happened – for Peter. Definitely not for his brother, mind. But I think this has made Peter see where his priorities are."

Tonks just nodded, not entirely surprised.

"And Remus?"

Sirius tilted his head.

"What about Remus?"

"Well, he's not here."

"Oh," Sirius nodded "his family's gone to France for the holiday."

Tonks whistled.

"Lucky bastard."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, obviously glad for the lighter topic.

\--

"So?"

Sirius was studying her over breakfast in a way that reminded Tonks far too much of her mother.

"So what?"

She heard James snort and then let out an indignant cry when Sirius levitated his plate of eggs out of his grasp.

"So who's the bloke you're shagging that's got dear Dromeda's knickers in a knot?"

Tonks, not yet old enough to do magic away from school, settled for flicking half a boiled egg at Sirius' face.

"I'm afraid he's entirely a figment of my mother's imagination, dear cousin."

Sirius eyed her intensely for a moment before apparently deciding she was telling the truth.

"Well that's disappointing."

James and Peter tittered with laughter as Sirius went back to his toast, looking slightly dejected.

"Honestly Sirius, the lot of you are far too interested in my sex life."

Sirius just rolled his eyes, but Tonks heard either James or Peter splutter to her left – her bet was on Peter.

"Frankly Tonks, I'd rather hear about your non-existent sex life than Sirius'"

She chuckled at James, who was now on the receiving end of Sirius' best glare.

"Why thank you James, I'm flattered."

James tipped an invisible cap to her before going back to his breakfast.

\--

The morning of their return to Hogwarts brought chaos into the Potter household. Tonks, who had packed her own trunk at her parents', hadn't needed to do much more than fold a few shirts and separate clean clothes from dirty ones. Peter had also packed quite quickly, only having arrived a day before Tonks. James and Sirius were another story entirely.

It was for that reason that Tonks found herself alone in the sitting room with Peter, both focused awkwardly on their tea in the absence of conversation.

Tonks had never really spent much time with Peter, and certainly not alone, given that they were in different houses and had very little in common aside from James, Sirius, and Remus.

"So," Peter started, obviously uncomfortable "get anything good for Christmas this year?"

Tonks shrugged.

"A broom cleaning kit and a bunch of stuffy dresses. You?"

"A quill set and a few books. And my brother's horrid old dress robes."

Unable to stop herself, Tonks let out a snort. Surprisingly, this seemed to break the tension, and Peter let out a genuine laugh.

"I might have actually preferred the dresses."

Again, Tonks snorted.

"I'm open to trades Peter, I think you'd look quite charming in tulle."

After that, conversation with Peter became far easier. Tonks was surprised to find that, while they really didn't have much in common, Peter was funny and easy to talk to. When James and Sirius finally came trampling down the stairs, being chased by Euphemia no less, Peter and Tonks had settled into a comfortable conversation about goblin rebellions, to the great surprise of everyone.

"Alright, alright everyone, we really must be on our way now if you don't all want to miss the train!"

Euphemia, normally the height of composure, looked distinctly harried as she herded all four teenagers towards the fireplace.

One by one they stepped through the floo and exited into a small wizarding café near King's Cross, Euphemia tipping the floo attendant and ushering the group quickly towards platform 9 ¾, where she spirited them through the barrier with the same efficiency.

Once on the platform, Tonks craned her head to look around the crowd, hoping to find Remus, but was firmly shunted to the nearest open train door with James, Sirius, and Peter instead.

"Merlin James," she heard Peter say, "your mum's stronger than she looks."

James and Sirius both laughed as they all trudged into the nearest open compartment, hauling their stuff up onto the luggage racks and collapsing into their seats.


	3. The Return

The train had left King's Cross behind already when she first saw him. She had stepped out of the compartment to go see some of her friends from her own house and was halfway through the train when she ran head first into him, in a display of her typical grace.

His arms wrapped around her to stop her downward trajectory and he looked at her with a small, fond smirk. Embarrassingly, she blushed.

"Don't look at me like that, Remus Lupin."

He chuckled lightly in a way that made her want to jump him right there in the train corridor.

"My apologies, how should I be looking at you?"

She shifted in his arms, moving steadily closer to him.

"Preferably like you're about to ravish me after an interminable absence."

He chuckled again, but this time it was darker, deeper in his throat, and his eyes had darkened, pupils blown.

He broke eye contact for a moment, eyes roving the corridor before he slid open the door to an empty compartment and moved her bodily into it, quickly flicking his wrist so the door locked and the curtain snapped down over the windows.

Before she could tell him how absolutely arousing she found his use of wandless magic, he had captured her lips in a kiss that could only be described as 'intense' and she was completely lost. The only thoughts she could form were that she wanted him closer and wearing far less clothing.

Logically, Tonks knew they didn't have nearly enough time for what she wanted – what they both wanted, if the intensity of his kisses and the hardness pressing into her were any indication – but she wasn't currently strictly guided by logic, so she pushed her hands up the sides of his shirt to feel his bare skin and groaned as she felt his grip on her hips tighten.

"Remus..."

His name came out as a gasp when they were forced to separate for air. She could feel his breath against her neck, but she could tell he was pulling himself back together as he took steadying breaths.

"We should really stop."

She felt his voice rumble in his chest and against her neck and shivered despite herself.

"And if I don't want to?"

He groaned, rocking forward into her so she could feel her effect on him.

"Would you prefer to be caught by Sirius then? Or the trolley witch? Lady's choice."

Tonks huffed indignantly, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Spoil sport."

"Believe me Dora, I would love nothing more than to ravage you right here in this train compartment, and I loathe that the logical part of my brain has decided to pipe up. Perhaps we can continue this later tonight?"

"Hmm," she pretended to consider his offer for a moment "prefect's bathroom or room of requirement?"

"No chance of being interrupted in the room of requirement."

She leaned up and gave him a soft kiss.

"You've convinced me."

Remus chuckled softly as they disentangled themselves and gestured for her to leave first. As she opened the compartment door he called her name softly and she turned, half into the corridor, and caught his gaze.

"I missed you."

She smiled shyly back at him and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Missed you too."

And then she was gone and off into the corridor, while Remus sat counting back from fifty.

\--

"Oi, Moony!"

Remus, reclining in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, looked up from his book.

"Yes Sirius?"

Sirius dropped unceremoniously onto the couch beside Remus, knocking over a pile of parchment as he went. Remus, used to his friend's theatrics, simply righted them with a flick of his hand and moved them away from Sirius.

"How was France? Meet any fit lady lycanthropes?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Keep your voice down, would you?"

Sirius just snorted and inclined his head, the expression on his face urging Remus to answer his question.

"I spent most of my time chasing red caps with my dad, so I can't say I met any ladies at all Sirius."

"How dull. Honestly Remus, you need to live a little."

Remus snorted.

"Thanks for your concern Sirius, but I don't even want to imagine your idea of 'living a little.'"

Sirius' wolfish grin was his only response, and Remus went back to his book, assuming he was safe.

"You're all so dull."

Apparently not. Remus looked up at his friend, knowing he wasn't nearly finished.

"Oh?"

"James is so busy mooning over Evans, Peter couldn't get a girl if I talked him through it, and you and Nymphie are both infuriatingly studious. Honestly, I've managed to find the dullest friends."

Remus just shook his head, no stranger to this particular conversation.

"By all means, you're free to find new ones then."

Sirius snorted.

"Please Moony, you all need me. What do you think of that Ravenclaw beater, Wembley?"

Puzzled, Remus tilted his head.

"Can't say he's really my type, Padfoot."

"Not for you, you ponce, for Nymphie. He's alright, yeah? Shaggable?"

Resigning himself to the conversation, Remus closed his book.

"I can't say that I share your obsession with finding someone to shag your cousin, Sirius."

Sirius scrunched up his face unattractively.

"Don't say it like that Moony, Merlin."

Chuckling, Remus collected his things and made his way towards the staircase.

"A fine Black tradition, is it, Sirius? Taking an interest in the blood-line?"

He just managed to duck into the staircase before Sirius' ink bottle hit him, instead leaving it to shatter on the stone wall as Remus made his way up to the dormitory.

\--

Features morphed into those of her Head of House, Tonks crept along a corridor on the second floor, hoping desperately to avoid Peeves. She knew her disguise was able to fool Filch, having done so before, but for whatever reason that damned poltergeist seemed to be able to see through her.

Hearing voices approaching from down the hall, she quickly ducked into an alcove before she could be spotted. Disguise or no, she wasn't taking any chances.

"Honestly Argus, I hardly feel this necessary."

McGonagall, damn.

"I heard noises from the third floor, Professor. In front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. I'm sure there's students out of bed."

As Filch and McGonagall passed her hiding spot, Tonks had to stifle a laugh at the severe expression the Gryffindor Head of House wore, somewhat negated by her tartan dressing gown and bonnet.

"And you couldn't possibly fetch me once you'd found them?"

Casting a quick disillusionment charm over herself, Tonks followed the two at a distance. She knew she should probably just head back to her dormitory, but she was on her way to meet Remus and refused to let Filch, of all people, ruin her plans.

Following them up the staircase and into the third-floor corridor, Tonks mentally congratulated herself on her stealth, having managed not to trip or stumble even once in her pursuit.

Almost immediately after her internal high five though, she felt the toe of her shoe catch on the edge of a carpet, sending her toppling to the ground, bringing down a nearby vase with her.

Immediately, Filch and McGonagall turned. McGonagall's wand was raised, as was Filch's lantern.

"Who's there?"

"I told you Professor, students out of bed!"

"Do be quiet Argus, I'm still not certain it isn't just Peeves."

Tonks flattened herself against the wall, desperately hoping her disillusionment would hold, but morphing her features into those of the resident poltergeist anyways. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by a blessedly familiar voice.

"Professor?"

McGonagall and Filch both turned to the voice.

"Student out of bed!"

"Yes, Argus, I do have eyes!"

Tonks held back her laughter at the thoroughly put out look on Filch's face.

"Mr. Lupin, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry Professor, I switched with Robbins in the Prefect rotation. I thought she had told you?"

"She did not, no."

"My apologies for startling you both, but I was following Peeves along the corridor. It seems he's been rearranging the suits of armor into compromising positions."

Filch's face quickly transformed into one of abject horror and he took off along the corridor muttering obscenities under his breath. McGonagall simply shook her head, lips pursed.

"Thank you, Mr. Lupin. As wrangling poltergeists is not within the scope of my position I will be returning to bed. I trust you will be of help to Mr. Filch?"

"Of course, Professor."

"Very well then. Good night, Mr. Lupin."

"Goodnight Professor."

McGonagall quickly turned on her heel and exited the corridor. Once she was sure the older woman had gone, Tonks spoke, still disillusioned.

"Wotcher, Remus."

Remus just chuckled as Tonks cancelled her disillusionment charm and appeared before him, still tangled amongst the carpet and pieces of the vase she'd knocked over.

"Hello, Dora."

He had a wide smile as he offered her a hand up off the floor and they began their pacing to open the Room of Requirement.

\--

Tonks strolled into her first class of the day - double Potions - with a spring in her step, glancing quickly around the room before making her way over to her brewing partner. Contrary to her clumsy nature, she was actually quite skilled at Potions, and was taking her NEWT a year early.

"Shove over Snape, you great dungeon bat."

Severus gave her his typical sneer as she arranged her things around their cauldron, though it had significantly less venom behind it than it had at the beginning of the year.

"Nymphadora, what a great relief you haven't been left permanently disfigured by your latest mishap."

His voice was oily and snarky as ever and she quickly made her rudest gesture at him before Slughorn could notice.

"Charming. Obviously it runs in the family."

She glanced up at him as Slughorn wrote out the instructions for their potion on the board.

"What happened to your face?"

She gestured to his left cheek, currently sporting a nasty cut and yellowing bruise. His scowl only deepened.

"Nosiness does not become you."

Rolling her eyes, Tonks began slicing bat spleens, directing her full attention to the task. She had a feeling she knew what Snape's testiness and facial injury were all about.

While nobody in their right mind could consider them friends, she and Severus had struck up a sort of grudging mutual respect over the year they had been brewing partners. He was hardly her favorite person, nor she his, but they managed to get along as well as she'd seen Severus get along with anyone.

"You know, I could ask Sirius to lay off you."

Snape snorted derisively and scowled at her.

"I hardly need help from his blood-traitor cousin."

Tonks rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.

"Oh come off it with that blood-supremacist tripe Snape, you know just as well as I do your dad's a muggle."

His eyes darkened to the point that anyone else might have been frightened.

"You know nothing."

Huffing and momentarily ignoring her bat spleens, Tonks turned to face him fully.

"Look Severus, I know your dad's a proper piece of shit, but you don't have to turn into some muggle hating Nazi because of it."

She was surprised when, instead of retorting with some scathing insult as usual, Severus instead continued dicing his leeches.

"What, nothing to say to that?"

"No."

Tonks shook her head and sighed, turning back to slicing her bat spleens with more force than was strictly necessary.


	4. The Quidditch Practice

Tonks was royally pissed off.

Storming into the change room from the Quidditch pitch, she couldn't help cursing Barry Trimble and everything he touched.

"I'm so sorry Tonks, I swear I didn't mean to!"

He had followed her inside, the little prat, apologizing the whole way.

To say that the inaugural Hufflepuff Quidditch practice of the term had gone poorly would be a massive understatement. And now bloody Barry Trimble was following her around like a mosquito, buzzing incessant apologies.

"Barry, it's fine, but if you don't shove off I'm going to rip your tongue out of your throat."

Thankfully Barry scarpered off, leaving Tonks to inspect the damage he'd done to her face.

Normally she could just morph away any little scratch or bruise, but as soon as she caught her reflection in the mirror she knew that wouldn't be the case this time.

"Bloody hell Tonks, what's happened to your face?"

The voice of Alice Prewett, one of Tonks' very best friends, was mildly concerned, but definitely far more amused. The taller girl stepped further into the change room, her own practice uniform muddy and wet from the dismal weather.

"Barry _fucking_ Trimble is what's happened to my face Alice, as you very well know."

Alice was unable to stifle her laughter as Tonks turned fully to face her.

"Well," she chuckled "at least Barry seems quite frightened of you now."

Tonks nodded, trying fruitlessly to pull her practice jersey off without causing herself any more pain.

"Oh honestly," Alice muttered "just go see Pomfrey like that. It's not like anyone will recognize you anyways, the way your face is."

Tonks snorted, before quickly regretting it as it unleashed a torrent of blood down the front of her face.

"Oh Merlin," she muttered, making her way out of the change room as Alice continued chuckling behind her.

This had been very much not her plan for the evening; dragging herself up to the hospital wing all muddied and bloodied. What with it being the last night left before the full moon, she had planned to meet Remus in the Prefect's bathroom as she usually did the night before his transformation. He was always sore and miserable the night before the moon, but they had discovered that floating in the massive tub in the Prefect's bathroom seemed to help a bit, and, odd as it was, she liked to just be there with him when he was miserable.

She definitely didn't want to look any deeper into those particular feelings though, because it scared the living hell out of her whenever she did.

Grimacing at the taste of blood that filled her mouth, Tonks hurried up the hallway, cursing Barry Trimble under her breath, when a familiar voice startled her out of her internal rant.

"Dora?"

She turned to face the source of the voice, and of course it was him. Of course Remus – who was looking windswept in addition to being handsome as always – would recognize her even in her current state of disfigurement.

"I take it Quidditch went poorly?"

He had rapidly closed the distance between them, and she could now feel his breath on her as he spoke.

"Well spotted, Remus."

He only chuckled lightly, hooking a finger under her chin and tilting her face up to look at him. To her surprise, he didn't look horrified by the state of her face – only mildly concerned. She allowed herself to lean into him slightly, realizing too late that she was staining his white shirt with blood.

"Oh hell! I've just got blood all over you."

Remus just smirked, defiantly pulling her closer before reaching into his robes and pulling out his wand.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing pointing that thing at me?"

His answering smirk had her blushing furiously, though she rather hoped it was hidden behind all the blood. His hand was still resting gently on her cheek though, tipping her head up again to face him.

"Episkey."

She felt the bones in her face rearranging themselves, and when she brought her own hand up to her face she was no longer in pain – though still covered in blood.

"Show off."

Remus just shrugged – still smirking at her – and ran his free hand over her face, the sticky sensation of drying blood evaporating at his touch. She huffed, but didn't move from where she stood pressed against him.

"I suppose you think you're quite clever?"

She could feel him laugh, his chest rumbling against her.

"And here I thought you were with me for my mind."

Tonks huffed good naturedly, looking up at his handsome face once more.

"Nah, you're just a piece of meat to me."

Remus laughed again, pulling her along to walk with him down the corridor.

"Very well then, I had an evening of stimulating conversation planned, but I can always drop you off at your common room instead."

"Or," Tonks began, innocently "you could take me to the bath instead. Or in the bath, if it suits you better."

Remus choked on whatever he had been about to say and strode purposefully in the direction of the Prefects' Bathroom, pulling Tonks along with him, laughing.


	5. The Feelings

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Tonks paused in the middle of a sentence for her Charms essay and looked at Alice as if she'd sprouted a second head.

"Are you ill?"

Alice rolled her eyes.

"Shut up and be serious would you, Nymphadora?"

Tonks scowled and shot her best glare at Alice.

"Don't call me Nymphadora."

Alice just rolled her eyes again, so used to the threat that she paid it no mind.

"Oh just be a girl for a moment Tonks, would you?"

Tonks put her quill down and regarded her friend warily.

"You're being serious."

Alice huffed in response.

"Yes, I am."

"What on Earth has brought this up, then? You're not still stuck on Sirius I hope..."

Alice laughed aloud. In their first year she'd harbored a none too secret crush on Sirius, seeing him as Tonks' cool, roguish older cousin.

"Merlin, no! Thankfully my tastes have improved since I was eleven."

Tonks laughed, relieved, before turning a searching eye on her friend.

"This is about Frank Longbottom then, isn't it?"

Alice flushed a rosy pink that told her everything.

"So what if it is?"

Tonks only shrugged, amused by her friend's defensiveness.

"Nothing wrong with it, just seems a bit soon to be talking about soulmates is all. Has he even asked you out?"

Alice flushed again.

"Well, no. It's just, I've been talking to Molly, and..."

Tonks didn't need to hear the end of that sentence to know where it was going. Molly Weasley was Alice's elder cousin, and while she was a positively delightful woman, she was absolutely a hopeless romantic.

"And?"

"Well, what if Frank's my soulmate? Or what if he's not? Merlin, the whole thing is so stressful really."

Tonks only snorted in response, and Alice crossed her arms.

"I'm being serious Tonks. I really like Frank, and I don't want to fuck it up."

Tonks sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. One of the reasons she enjoyed Alice's friendship so much was precisely because they didn't have conversations like this.

"I'm really not the person to ask, Alice. I've no love life to speak of."

That wasn't exactly true, but there was no reason for Alice to know so.

"You mean to say that you've never thought about love then? You don't think it would be nice?"

Frankly, Tonks had been trying very hard not to think about love – and all that it entailed – because every time she did she found herself out of breath and dreadfully nauseous.

Her thoughts must have shone through on her face, because next thing she knew, Alice was giving her a look that was positively Slytherin.

"Who is he then?"

Tonks only just managed to catch her mouth before it dropped open, but she had the sinking feeling her eyes had gone quite wide.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Even she didn't believe the hollow protest.

"Besides, weren't we talking about you and Frank Longbottom?"

Alice said nothing, but looked very much like the cat that had got the canary.

\--

Remus and Tonks were sat at a small table very near the back of the library, in a disused alcove in the Restricted Section, books stacked high on the table and parchment strewn about. Remus was lost in some advanced bit of Charms theory, while Tonks had her Potions book open in front of her, but was struggling to get through even a sentence without her mind wandering.

She couldn't possibly be in love with Remus, could she? Of course she was terribly fond of him, and had pined embarrassingly after him for some time. But love? That was far more complicated. Would they have a future? Would Remus even consider it? She knew how dreadfully cautious he was about his lycanthropy, and with the laws that currently existed in Britain, she was also painfully aware that his life would likely get quite difficult after school.

Not that she cared, of course. But Remus, being the noble prat he'd always been, had all these ideas about sparing her from his fate, even by association. It infuriated her. As if she were some tittering schoolgirl. As if she couldn't make her own choices. As if he wasn't worth any inconvenience.

The quill she had been writing with snapped, causing Remus' head to pop up from where it had been bent over his textbook.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," she gave him a weak smile "I'm good. This Potions essay's given me a headache though. You want to take a break?"

"Sure."

He slid a spare bit of parchment into the book to save his place before fixing her with a tired smile.

"You know, you've put me in quite an awkward position."

Tonks tilted her head at him, confused, and silently began to panic.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this weekend is Gryffindor-Hufflepuff. Sirius has been plotting all week to try and jinx your broom, you know."

Tonks snorted, relieved to be talking about something as trivial as Quidditch.

"Oh, I know. I've bewitched it to be jinx proof. Can't say the same for his beater's bat though."

Remus chuckled, shifting closer to her on the bench they shared.

"Would I be a terrible friend if I didn't warn him?"

Tonks put her finger to her chin in a faux-thinking pose, leaning into Remus as she did.

"Frankly I think you'd be a worse boyfriend if you did."

Remus stiffened, only for a second, before relaxing into her again, moving his hand to rest at the small of her back.

"Wouldn't want that," he murmured, very much in her ear.

Completely involuntarily, Tonks shuddered against him. Apparently that was all it took to break his resolve, because next thing she knew Remus' lips were on hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her to his body. Tonks moaned into the kiss, feeling his grip on her tighten, and threaded one hand through his hair, pulling him closer still, clutching his robes with her free hand.


	6. The Potion

Tonks was arranging her things for Potions when Snape swept in with his typical theatrics. She internally rolled her eyes, knowing this could only mean he was in a mood.

"I do not need your help."

Tonks turned to look up at him as he unpacked his bags, sneering at her and positively fuming. She only raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your cousin," Snape hissed "you've set one of your _dogs_ to keep him in line."

Tonks only tilted her head slightly before speaking.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Snape."

"Oh no? So you're telling me that, entirely from nowhere, Remus Lupin has decided to grow a conscience?"

Tonks shrugged indifferently.

"Guess so."

Thankfully, at that moment, Slughorn bustled importantly into the classroom, cutting off any witty retort Snape may have been planning.

"Good morning everyone, good morning. And an exciting morning it is!"

Tonks briefly glanced at Snape, meeting his wary gaze. As much as he might be in a mood with her, they were both equally skeptical of anything making Slughorn so positively giddy.

"I have managed, through a dear old friend of mine now working with the Irish Ministry, to create a lesson for you all today that has the potential to revolutionize wizarding society – and bring no small amount of acclaim should we be successful."

There were a few excited murmurings throughout the class, but Tonks was still wary. From the look he was giving Professor Slughorn, it was clear Snape felt the same.

"Who among you," started Slughorn "can tell me what Wolfsbane is?"

A few hands raised, including both Tonks' and Snape's. Slughorn called on a Hufflepuff boy in the second row.

"It's a theoretical potion," the boy said "it's never been made, but it's supposed to cure someone who's been bit by a werewolf, right?"

Slughorn looked disappointed.

"Not quite, my boy, not quite. You are correct that is merely theory, though. Anyone else?"

This time Slughorn gestured for Snape to speak.

"The Wolfsbane potion, if brewed correctly, would permit a werewolf to retain his or her human mind during the full moon. The theory, however, has not been perfected, and has resulted in the deaths of all test subjects."

Slughorn clapped happily, though Tonks felt a twisting in her gut.

"Very good Mr. Snape! Ten points to Slytherin! You are quite right, the Wolfsbane potion is not in fact a cure for lycanthropy, it simply allows the sufferer to retain their human mind during the transformation. Can anyone tell me why this is important?"

He indicated a Slytherin girl sitting down the row from Tonks and Snape.

"They're less dangerous that way. They'd be able to control whether or not they bit someone."

Slughorn nodded, obviously quite pleased.

"Indeed Ms. Moore! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Now, as Mr. Snape so astutely pointed out, the theory behind the Wolfsbane potion has yet to be perfected. That is what we will be doing this lesson; problem solving the theory, and then perhaps getting started on some preliminary brewing."

Excited murmurs well and truly broke out this time, and even Tonks found herself excited. _Wolfsbane._ This could change everything for Remus.


	7. The Meeting

"Tonks!"

Snapping her head up from where she had been idly staring at her beans and toast, Tonks noticed Alice waving a scroll of parchment at her, obviously having been trying to catch her attention.

"What's that?"

Alice huffed.

"I haven't a clue Tonks, it's for you."

Taking the scroll from Alice and unfurling it, Tonks was shocked to find the neat, precise handwriting of her second least favourite aunt.

_Nymphadora,_

_I am well aware that you and I have never been on the best of terms, however I have something of grave importance that I need to discuss with you. I have enclosed an address in Hogsmeade, if it is convenient for you I shall meet you there Thursday of next week. I would ask that you come alone. Please._

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

Reading the letter through a second and third time, Tonks was even more bewildered than she had been to start with. She hadn't heard a peep from her Aunt Narcissa for the majority of her life. During the few encounters they'd had, mostly on the streets of Diagon Alley, she'd exuded an air of pompous superiority - one that she only broke to make the occasional snide comment. But that had been years ago now. Since then all Tonks knew of the woman was that she had gone off and married that knob Lucius Malfoy.

Normally she would have tossed the letter right into the bin without even thinking of meeting Narcissa, but something about it made Tonks pause. At the beginning of the letter the handwriting was posh and precise, as she would have expected, but towards the end it began to waver. And the fact she had said 'please'… Well, that genuinely concerned Tonks.

"So?"

Jarred from her musings by Alice's voice, Tonks looked up from the letter.

"So what?"

Once again, Alice huffed.

"The letter, _Nymphadora_ , what's the letter about?"

Tonks scowled perfunctorily at her friend.

"See for yourself."

She passed the letter across the table.

Alice tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"Tonks, this is blank."

"What?"

Leaning across the table, Tonks glanced at the parchment as Alice examined it. Sure enough, it was blank.

"Let me see."

Grabbing it back, Tonks whistled as the writing appeared again.

"Nice bit of charm work, that. Looks like only I can read it."

"Ooh," Alice gave her a look "something from your mysterious man?"

Rolling her eyes, Tonks folded the letter and stowed it inside her robes.

"Hardly."

\--

The tea shop she sat in just off the main road leading into Hogsmeade was fussy as expected, though frankly Tonks was mostly relieved she wasn't meeting her aunt in Madame Puddifoot's. She drummed her fingers against the table, rattling her saucer and drawing haughty looks from the proprietor. Honestly, it seemed most unlike Narcissa to be late, and Tonks was starting to wonder if this had all been some sort of set-up. 

Before Tonks had time to spiral into that train of thought, the door swung open and her aunt came sweeping through, looking entirely more harried than Tonks had ever seen her. Narcissa's normally impeccably coiffed hair was pulled up into a rough bun, her face was gaunt and mostly devoid of makeup, and she was wearing robes that looked distinctly rumpled. If Tonks hadn't known the woman on sight she would have had a difficult time believing that she was indeed Narcissa Malfoy. 

Narcissa settled herself into the chair across from Tonks, looking around quickly as if making sure they weren't being watched, and filled her own teacup with shaking hands. 

"Are you alright?" 

Tonks surprised herself by speaking, and she apparently was not the only one. Her aunt's head snapped up abruptly and she spilled tea onto the tablecloth, quickly muttering a drying charm under her breath. 

"I am... fine." 

Tonks felt her eyebrow raise of its own accord. 

"I need to speak to your mother." 

Slowly sipping her tea, Tonks couldn't help feeling confused. 

"Then why have you owled me to meet? Surely direct correspondence would have been easier." 

"The outgoing mail is monitored. I can't be seen contacting my bloodtraitor sister. Letters to Hogwarts are far less unusual." 

As much as she wanted to curse out her aunt for the 'bloodtraitor' remark, Tonks could see that the woman was genuinely distressed. Honestly it freaked her out just a bit. 

"Alright. I can get my mother to owl you then?" 

"No!" 

Narcissa's outburst drew another haughty look from the woman who seemed to own the shop, and she quickly lowered her voice. 

"No, nothing can be done by owl. Can you please get her to meet me at St. Mungo's? Which floor is she working on now?" 

"Fourth floor, Spell Damage." 

_Fuck._ She probably shouldn't have given out that information so easily. 

"Ask her for a convenient time and send me the reply." 

Narcissa was gathering her things quickly to leave, and Tonks stood too after putting two galleons down on the table. 

"I'm not a house-elf you know. If you want me to do this for you, you need to tell me why." 

Shockingly, at that Narcissa's eyes flooded with tears. Tonks, deeply uncomfortable, almost wanted to take back the demand, but refused. She wouldn't play owl for her estranged aunt. 

"Nymphadora..." 

"No. Tell me or we don't have a deal." 

Narcissa took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

"The rumours are true. The Dark Lord is rising, and I am in far over my head." 

Stunned into silence by both her aunt's statement and its shaky delivery, Tonks dropped heavily back into her chair, barely noticing as Narcissa Malfoy made her hasty exit.


	8. The Appointment

The hallway outside the office of Healer Andromeda Tonks was empty save for one other person; a small man with a large wooden bird protruding from between his nipples. While Narcissa tried to look anywhere but at the sharp magenta beak, the man seemed to want nothing more than to strike up a conversation. 

“What’ve you got then?” he asked cheerfully, as if the grotesque carving was nothing more than a mild sunburn. 

Narcissa pursed her lips, fighting the natural urge to verbally decimate the man. It wouldn’t do to make an impression, lest she be remembered. 

“This is a social call, taking an old friend to lunch.” 

“There’s a smashing Indian place just up the road, if you’re looking for suggestions. It’s Muggle, so maybe the cloak would stick out a bit, but the pakoras are to die for.” 

Narcissa hummed non-commitally, hoping the man would get the hint that she had no desire for conversation. 

“Mind you,” he continued, obviously not getting the hint “there’s a Wizarding place just off Diagon that has excellent butter chicken. A bit pricier, and not quite as nice, but the cloak wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.” 

Reaching the end of her patience, Narcissa was just about to deliver a scathing retort when the door to Andromeda’s office opened and her sister’s head popped out. 

“Back again then Mr. Danziger?” 

The man smiled and stood up to greet her, still the picture of joviality, as the wooden bird let out an indignant squawk. 

“Yeah, I dunno what it is about the start of the month that sets her off Healer Tonks, but at least this time it hasn’t got any teeth.” 

Andromeda and the man disappeared into her office and Narcissa rearranged her cloak around herself, muttering. 

“Honestly, as if a finely crafted cloak would draw attention, but not a large tropical bird.” 

\-- 

Not even five minutes had passed before Mr. Danziger reappeared in the hallway, this time wearing a checked shirt and without the large bird. 

“Thanks Healer Tonks, see you next month!” 

He shot Narcissa a friendly smile and a jaunty wave, which she studiously ignored, as he made his way down the hallway. 

Now only she and Andromeda remained. Her elder sister stood in the doorway of her office, face wary and arms crossed. Narcissa rose to her feet slowly, brushing non-existent dust from her robes as she did so. 

“I thought Nymphadora was pulling some sort of joke when she said you asked to meet.” 

Narcissa struggled for words, frozen in place and increasingly unsure of how to explain her predicament. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come. 

Likely noticing her discomfort, Andromeda stepped out of the doorway and motioned for Narcissa to enter. 

“Come in then.” 

On shaking legs, Narcissa followed her estranged sister into her office, resigned to the knowledge that she was about to commit high treason. 

\-- 

The sound of clinking china was the only sound in Andromeda’s office as the elder Black sister prepared tea for the unexpected meeting. 

Narcissa took in her sister’s office as Andromeda fixed their tea; the plain, cream coloured walls were typical of every office in St. Mungo’s, but there were small, tasteful, personal touches that offered a window into Andromeda’s life. The life that she had chosen over the one that Narcissa led. 

Just under the Healer’s diploma, inscribed elegantly with the name ‘Andromeda Tonks’, was a series of three photographs. The first showed a much younger Andromeda with a man that must have been Edward Tonks, both smiling widely in trainee Healer’s robes in front of a befuddled looking man in a starched shirt with a strange flat collar. The three of them were completely still, and Narcissa realised that this must have been taken with a Muggle camera. The second photograph was moving, a younger Edward Tonks laughing as he tried to wrangle a multi-coloured blur of a toddler into the frame. That would be Nymphadora then. The third photograph was the most recent; Andromeda looking exasperatedly – but fondly – at a newly school-aged Nymphadora, who was making faces at the camera in front of the Hogwarts Express while her father failed to hide his laughter beside her. 

“Black tea still, Narcissa?” 

Andromeda’s voice startled Narcissa from her perusal of her sister’s office. She wasn’t able to keep the blush from her face. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Her cup placed itself on the small table in front her, transfigured by Andromeda from a coat rack beside her desk. Andromeda herself was sitting primly in her own chair, openly scrutinizing Narcissa, obviously wary of the reason for her visit. 

“Nymphadora seemed alarmed by your meeting. I do sincerely hope you know better than to have made any sort of threat against her.” 

Narcissa wished that she could be offended by the insinuation, but she would have made the same assumption in Andromeda’s position. 

“I do not wish your daughter any harm, Andromeda. I needed to speak with you, and reaching out directly is simply not possible. I apologize if I frightened either of you.” 

Andromeda’s eyebrows raise significantly at the apology. They had both had it drilled into them that _Blacks do not apologize_. Ever. For any reason. 

“Then please enlighten me as to the reason for your visit Narcissa.” 

Narcissa takes a deep, shaky breath before attempting a response. 

“The rumours are true Andromeda, the Dark Lord is rising. Lucius is involved, far more so than I would care to admit. The things he asks of his followers Andromeda, I cannot countenance. I am so far in over my head that there is no saving me.” 

Andromeda is speechless, and very, very pale. 

“And I am pregnant.” 

The cup in Andromeda’s hand drops and shatters, milky tea spreading over the tile floor until it reaches the toes of Narcissa’s boots. She clearly understands the implications of this news. 

“Narcissa...” 

“If they knew, Andromeda – Lucius and the Dark Lord – I cannot even imagine the consequences. I cannot bring a child into this. I will not.” 

Andromeda is silent, staring at her youngest sister, but Narcissa can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. 

“And you have come to me. To remedy the situation?” 

Despite decades of training in maintaining the façade, Narcissa feels her eyes fill with tears and clamps them shut, biting the inside of her cheek to repress the whimper that wants to escape. Eyes closed, she nods her head once, decisively. 

Narcissa nearly jumps straight out of her chair when she feels a warm hand on her shoulder. Andromeda is standing beside her, jaw set, but with sympathetic eyes.


	9. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reworking the math on how old Narcissa is, to have parts of this make more sense. I've tried to go back and fix the timeline in earlier chapters, but may well have missed something. 
> 
> So, just for an abundance of clarity: The year is 1977 (the first chapters would be December of 1976). The Marauders are in their 7th year (17 years old), Tonks is in her 6th (16 years old). Narcissa is 28 years old. Presuming that Andromeda was 18 when Tonks was born, that would make her 34 - six years Narcissa's senior. This may not line up to canon, but I'm trying to make the age difference between the sisters not too big. Also it's an AU anyways, so I'm already taking significant liberties with timeline.

When Narcissa wakes, swaddled in soft blankets in the warmth of a private room, she is – initially – relieved. The immediate danger has passed. She will not have to bring a child into a war. The wrath of Lucius and the Dark Lord is not a pressing concern. 

As she begins to emerge from the fog of the sedation spell though, she is filled with rage. With every breath, she wishes to scream, to destroy her surroundings. If she could push back the sedation further, she would hurl the vase of flowers at her bedside out the nearest window. But she cannot, and so instead the rage fills her, replacing the blood in her body with a burning hatred. For the Dark Lord, for Lucius, for herself. 

When Andromeda enters the room, Narcissa can barely breathe for the venom that envelops her. 

“Narcissa?” 

Andromeda’s voice is soft, kind. And Narcissa seethes. She deserves no kindness. 

“Narcissa, are you feeling any pain or discomfort?” 

Narcissa is sure that if she opens her mouth she will either scream or sob, so she only shakes her head. Physical pain would be a welcome alternative. 

Andromeda sits lightly on the edge of her bed, but does not reach for her. 

“You are not beyond saving, Narcissa. You need only make the choice to be saved. To save yourself.” 

Narcissa swallows thickly. Only this morning she would have scoffed at Andromeda’s words, knowing that any such choice would have taken everything from her, destroyed her very life. But now, in this moment, what more did she have to lose? Lucius? Her status in pureblood circles? She found that neither were worth the pain she currently felt. Lucius could go impale himself on a basilisk fang for all she cared. 

And so, Narcissa Black Malfoy found herself making a decision that only twenty-four hours prior would have been unthinkable. 

“I wish to save myself, Andromeda. By any means.” 

\-- 

The back room of the Hog’s Head Inn was not exactly what Narcissa had pictured for the headquarters of the resistance. 

A surly barman had led her through a dank hallway and into a cramped office of sorts, and she was now fighting to keep the sleeve of her cloak away from a particularly obstinate goat. Not her finest cloak, of course – she was keeping a low profile – but Narcissa didn’t care to have goat saliva on even her oldest and most out of date possessions. 

An amused chuckle drew her attention from the futile struggle, and – for the first time in more than a decade – Narcissa found herself looking into the sparkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore. 

“I see you’ve met Leonid. I’ve lost many a fine garment to his whims, I’m afraid.” 

“Leonid?” 

Almost as if in response to its name, the creature chewing at her sleeve let out a bleating noise. 

Dumbledore continued to smile placidly. 

“Yes, I’m unsure whether Aberforth named him, or if he had a previous life in the East. Tea?” 

Narcissa, unprepared for the change in conversation, blinked rather more owlishly than she would care to admit. Undeterred, Dumbledore conjures a delicate tea set seemingly from nowhere and begins to prepare their drinks. 

“Now Ms. Black,” he begins, before pausing “or would you prefer Malfoy?” 

Narcissa’s voice is hard when she responds. 

“Black is fine.” 

Dumbledore nods and continues. 

“Your sister intimated that you have recently had something of a paradigm shift.” 

While Narcissa would – reluctantly – admit that she held a certain fondness for the headmaster’s whimsical nature, she was not currently in the mood for talking around the issue. 

“Lucius Malfoy is an imbecile who has staked everything on a megalomaniac. The Dark Lor- _Voldemort_ will lead us all to ruin. I am here to defect.” 

She got straight to the point. 

Dumbledore’s face was as serious as she’d ever seen it, but there was still a hint of a twinkle in his eye.


	10. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing a bit of editing on the formatting of this, so if it looks like there's fewer chapters it's just because I've been amalgamating some of the shorter ones. Not sure if this is better or worse, but it reads a bit less fragmented to me. I originally wrote this purely as a way to avoid a term paper, not intending to post it anywhere, so I'm just trying to fill in some gaps now.
> 
> That said, we're starting to move in the direction of an actual plot now, as opposed to just snippets of the Remus/Tonks relationship. We'll see if my commitment to writing this holds up as my summer term starts.

The morning of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match found James and Sirius engaged in a spirited discussion on whether or not applying a Sleek-Easy’s Ever Growing Hair Potion to an opposing player could well and truly be considered cheating. James maintained that it absolutely was cheating, while Sirius took the position that it was simply a difference of opinion in grooming preference. Remus tried his best to ignore the both of them, while Peter snickered occasionally at their bickering between bites of toast. 

When Tonks stormed over to their table, fuming, and with hair trailing on the floor behind her as she walked, none of them were especially surprised – though Sirius at least had the decency to look frightened when he saw the expression on her face. 

“Nymphie, have you changed your hair?” 

“Sirius Black, you absolute -” 

The cousins’ imminent shouting match was interrupted by the arrival of the morning post, a flurry of owls swooping low over the house tables. Tonks smirked when an especially pointy looking package dropped squarely onto the crown of Sirius’ head. 

Sirius’ complaints, however, were cut off by the sound of breaking glass to his left. Peter had squeezed his juice glass so tightly that it had shattered. He had an open letter sitting on top of his pile of toast and his face had gone a pale shade of grey that matched James’ oatmeal. 

“Peter, are you alright?” 

James seemed concerned enough that both Tonks and Sirius forgot their spat for the moment. Remus closed the book he had been reading. 

“M-my brother..” Peter sputtered, “I’ve just g-got a letter from my brother.” 

“Do you mind?” James asked, picking up the letter. 

Peter just nodded, still pale and shocked. 

James’ expression grew dark as he read through Peter’s letter. 

“Merlin, Circe and Morgana.” 

“Give it here James,” Sirius reached across to grab the letter, only to have his hand forcefully pushed away. 

“Not here Sirius.” 

Remus quirked an eyebrow at James, who passed him the letter, ignoring Sirius’ protest. 

Scanning the contents quickly, Remus swore aloud and stood up, gesturing for the others to follow him out of the Great Hall. Tonks and James helped a shell-shocked Peter to his feet, ignoring Sirius’ persistent pleas to see the letter. 

“Sirius, shut it. We’ll show you in a minute.” 

Remus, ever the voice of reason, replayed the contents of the letter in his mind as he shepherded Sirius from the hall. 

_Peter,_

_Guess you’ve seen my face all in the Prophet, huh? If all goes well you’ll probably be seeing more of it soon. Exciting stuff coming up._

_Don’t think you’ve ever been to Cardiff, have you? Well, it’s kind of a dump, but the weather’s better than Scotland at least. Besides, it’s not like I’m here to see the sights, is it? Hopefully once you’re done at school you’ll come join me. I think you’d be interested in what we’re getting set up here, it’s going to be big soon, so best to get in early. Definitely better than some shitty Ministry job, you really get to get into the action. Your spot’s here when you’re ready._

_Best,_

_Malcolm_

\-- 

Once they had all made their way to the Gryffindor common room, James and Remus had stepped into the dormitory to ‘discuss something important’, leaving Sirius and Peter alone by the fire – Tonks having excused herself to the girls’ lavatory in attempt to deal with her still growing hair. 

“So,” Sirius started, still furious after reading the letter, “you going to fuck off to Cardiff and joint the Death Eaters then?” 

Peter, looking startled and pale, was unable to formulate an answer quickly enough for Sirius, who continued on speaking. 

“Seems like the kind of thing you’d do Wormtail,” he bites out, “come when you’re called like a good little pet.” 

The hurt look on Peter’s face lets Sirius know that he’s probably gone a bit too far, but he’s finding it difficult to get his anger under control. 

“I’m not brave like you, Sirius,” Peter murmurs, looking dejected. Sirius’ anger flares anew. 

“So what, you’re going to go off and kill people because you’re too afraid to say no?” he scoffs. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Peter interjects, “I’ve just never been able to stand up to them – Malcolm, and my family. I never mentioned it because your family is much worse and you still went against them, still stuck to your beliefs. And I don’t know if I can. I’m scared that I’ll just go along with what I’m told, because I’m afraid of losing them, and afraid of choosing wrong. I’m afraid _all the time_ , Sirius. Everyone laughed when I was sorted into Gryffindor, because I’m such a coward – turns out they were right.” 

Peter seems so genuinely distressed that Sirius bites back the harsh retort he’d had ready. It probably isn’t the time. 

“Do you agree with what they’re doing, the Death Eaters?” Sirius’ question is quiet, and he himself doesn’t know if he wants the answer. 

“Of course not,” Peter’s voice is surprisingly steady, his tone firm, “it’s revolting.” 

Sirius nods. 

“Well, then you’re going to have to make a decision, Peter. You know my feelings on the matter, but hell, you’re the one who has to live with yourself.” 

Sirius wants to stalk out of the common room in a dramatic exit, but Peter looks so pale and frightened that he stays with his friend instead, sitting silently and looking into the fire. 

\-- 

Peter paces up and down the hallway, as he has been for the past forty-five minutes. Gryffindor’s just finished Quidditch thrashing at the hands of Hufflepuff is the furthest thing from his mind, despite the five galleons he’d bet on the match. Even two months ago, he probably would have just gone along with his brother’s plan – guilty, ashamed, but too afraid to speak up or go against him. If he’s honest, he isn’t sure what it is that’s changed, only that now – perhaps for the first time – he feels as if he’s had enough. He’s reached his breaking point. Maybe it’s the concreteness of the timeline, the fact that his brother joining the Death Eaters isn’t just a hypothetical anymore. But, as unbelievably frightened as he is – and he is beyond frightened, all the time – he cannot reconcile the image in his head of himself betraying the only real friends he’s ever had. He thinks he might rather die than become Peter Pettigrew, the traitor – the Death Eater. 

So he’s pacing the hallway outside the Headmaster’s office, trying to summon the courage to address the gargoyle. He has no idea what he’s going to do, or how he’ll do it, and in his panic, he has decided that Dumbledore will be able to help. 

“Hello, Peter,” the Headmaster’s voice startles him, and he lets out an embarrassing squeak. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I was going to ask the gargoyle to let me in.” 

“Not to worry. As it would happen, I was on my way out for a midnight stroll. Perhaps I will save that for another night though, and you can accompany me to my office. We wouldn’t want Minerva to catch you out after curfew, after all.” 

Peter only nods mutely, following the Headmaster up the spiral staircase and into his elaborate office. 

“Sit, sit,” Dumbledore motions to a set of spindly chairs, “and do feel free to take an acid pop – I'm afraid I underestimated the potency of this batch.” 

Never one to refuse a sweet, Peter takes a vivid green lollipop and immediately regrets it, spitting it out with a cry before it can burn the entirety of his mouth. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore tuts, “I really must have a word with the manufacturer. I was afraid it was my own aging taste buds, but it appears to be a production issue. My apologies, dear boy. Here,” he conjures a small glass, filling it with his wand, “have a neutralizing potion.” 

Peter empties the glass, relieved when the burning begins to subside. 

“Now,” Dumbledore continues, smiling again, “what, may I ask, has prompted this late-night visit?” 

“Er,” Peter stammers, “do you remember my brother Malcolm, sir?” 

Something shifts in Dumbledore’s countenance, and he looks more serious when he nods, all musings on acid pops forgotten. 

“I do, yes.” 

Peter hesitates when Dumbledore doesn’t elaborate, but continues anyways. 

“Well, he’s gone and joined You-Know-Who, sir.” 

Dumbledore’s gaze hardens further. “I hoped I had been misinformed. I’m sorry to hear that, Peter.” 

Peter nods, forcing himself on. He’s come this far. 

“And,” he pauses, “and he’s asked me join him too.” 

“Has he been on or around Hogwarts grounds, Peter?” Dumbledore’s tone is hard when he asks. 

“No, sir,” he shakes his head, “he’s sent me a letter. He’s in Cardiff.” 

Dumbledore nods again, considering Peter. 

“I must ask, Peter, are you considering his offer?” 

Peter swallows hard. “I don’t know, sir.” 

The headmaster’s gaze is piercing, and Peter vaguely wonders if he can read minds. He’d read somewhere that there was a spell. 

“I just,” he presses on again, “I don’t agree with what he’s doing – You-Know-Who – but I don’t know what else to do. He’s my brother, I’ve always just done what he does.” 

Dumbledore sits in silence for a moment, chin resting on his steepled fingers as he assesses Peter. 

“It seems to me, Peter, that the time has come for you to start making your own decisions. Your brother will only find trouble on the path that he has taken, and it would be most unfortunate if you allowed yourself to be dragged along for the ride.” 

Peter nods, examining his fingernails. 

“Though I rather suspect that you knew that,” Peter looks up at the Headmaster, who is still regarding him in his serene way. 

“Sir?” 

“Peter,” Dumbledore smiles, “if you were truly considering a career with Voldemort’s Death Eaters, I hardly think you would have sought out my council. I have not been subtle in my opposition to their cause, and you are not a stupid man.” 

Peter shrugs, “I guess not.” 

Dumbledore gives him another of his enigmatic smiles. 

“Now, it is very late – you should really get back to your common room before the Fat Lady is too inebriated to admit you. If I might ask you a favour, though?” 

“Sure,” Peter nods. 

“Don’t send your brother a reply, just yet. I would like to speak with you at greater length about this, perhaps tomorrow evening – around seven? Until then, I would ask that you keep this conversation between just us two.” 

“Sure,” Peter shrugs, “but why?” 

“I believe,” Dumbledore smiles, “that I may have a solution to both of our problems. Now, off to bed.” 

Peter leaves the Headmaster’s office feeling confused, but also as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He is secure in his decision not to join his brother – the thought of being a Death Eater had horrified him – and he realizes that perhaps he had just needed encouragement that he was making the right choice. 

He has no idea what Dumbledore’s ‘solution to their problems’ is, but he has a sinking feeling that he may soon be more involved in the looming war than he had ever wanted. The knowledge that he has chosen his own side is the only thing that makes this thought bearable.


	11. The Fork in the Road

On any other day, the absolute routing of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team would have sent Tonks into a week long campaign of publicly mocking Sirius whenever she found the opportunity. The fact that she had managed to knock her cousin clean off his broom would have only added to her joy. But the letter that Peter had received at breakfast, and the subsequent stony, tense atmosphere had put a damper on her victory. 

Much as James and Sirius had tried to pull themselves together for the match, Tonks could tell that Peter’s letter had shaken them, and they’d been off their game. Out of respect for the circumstances, she’d decided not to crow over their loss as she had originally planned, but she still had every intention of getting a few jabs in. After all, she had played the entirety of the match with her hair tied in an ever-growing knot on her head – that did deserve at least a bit of gloating. 

Tonks and Alice were the only two people left behind in the changing room, still trying to get a handle on the disaster that had become Tonks’ hair. 

“Honestly Tonks,” Alice groused, hacking off a good four feet of growth, “James Potter is the heir to a hair potion empire; you’d think he’d have some kind of antidote.” 

Tonks scoffed, “Have you seen the bird’s nest on his head, Alice? The boy hasn’t used a hair potion a day in his life.” 

Alice considers this for a moment before apparently agreeing, cursing under her breath. 

“There must be a time limit on it though, right? Molly spilled a drop on Bill when he was a baby, and she said his hair stopped growing after about an hour.” 

Tonks only shrugs, never having had reason to use hair potion before. “I have no idea, Alice. I suppose I could ask my mum, but we’re in a bit of a row at the moment. I also don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing Sirius has gotten one over on me.” 

Alice snorts indelicately, combing out a persistent knot none too gently. “That may just have to be the price you pay, Tonks. Because there’s only so long I’m willing to be your personal stylist. I do have a life, you know.” 

“I don’t know that Quidditch practice and pining after Frank Longbottom is exactly what I would call ‘a life’, but suit yourself,” Tonks huffs. 

Alice yanks Tonks’ hair harder than strictly necessary in retaliation for the comment. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she muses, smirking wickedly, “can’t be much worse than Quidditch practice and sneaking around to shag Remus Lupin.” 

Tonks gapes, completely stunned and frozen in place. Alice looks far too pleased. 

“I take it by your delightful imitation of a freshwater plimpie that I’ve accurately assessed the situation,” she crows. 

“What-” Tonks sputters, “How-” 

Alice continues hacking off hair as it grows, smirking still. 

“How did I figure out that you’ve been carrying on a dalliance with Sirius’ most studious mate?” 

Tonks only nods, not seeing any point in denying it. She trusts Alice not to go blabbing it around, and could honestly use someone to talk to about her feelings who isn’t Remus. 

“You two haven’t been nearly as subtle as you think you have,” Alice rolls her eyes, “I came down to the change rooms to look for my goggles the other night and instead found my best friend being pinned up against a row of lockers. Not an image I particularly needed, Tonks, thanks ever so much for that. Although Lupin does have a much tighter arse than I would have thought – he's so pale and skinny, so that was a surprise.” 

“Alice!” Tonks splutters, flushing a deep scarlet. Alice only shrugs in response. 

“Everything kind of clicked into place after that though – how secretive you’ve been, all the sneaking off in the middle of the night. Frankly I’m just relieved you weren’t off with Terrence Wembley like I thought, he’s had it off with most of fifth and sixth year.” 

Tonks huffs, still moderately embarrassed that Alice had caught her and Remus in such a compromising position. 

“So,” her friend prompts, “do you have feelings for him, or is it just semi-public shagging?” 

“Hey,” she protests, “it's not as if we thought anybody would be stopping by!” 

“You’re avoiding the question,” Alice sing-songs. 

Tonks huffs again. 

“I may – _may_ – have developed something in the way of feelings for Remus.” 

Alice looks entirely too pleased. 

“Ooh,” she beams, “I know that defensiveness! You’re in love with him.” 

Tonks only grumbles in response to her friend’s gleeful proclamation. She has the sinking feeling that Alice has hit the nail on the head. 

\-- 

“I know that what I’m asking of you is quite a lot, Peter. And do keep in mind that I am only asking – you are of course permitted to say no.” 

Peter is sure he’s about to hurl all over the Headmaster’s desk. He’s never heard such a ridiculous, insane, _dangerous_ plan as the one Dumbledore has just presented to him as if it were a remedial Transfiguration assignment. 

“Sir,” he manages, “I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. I’m the worst possible choice for something like this.” 

Dumbledore seems to consider him for a moment. 

“I understand why you might think that, Peter, but I must respectfully disagree.” 

Peter knows that he hasn’t managed to school his expression at all by the amused smile that graces the Headmaster’s face. He makes a concerted effort to close his mouth, only half succeeding. 

“Peter, if you do not wish to take up my suggestion, I will not be offended – I know it’s far too much to ask of you. But if your only objection is that you don’t think you’re right for the job, then I think you’re doing both of us a disservice.” 

Dumbledore sits back in his chair, steepling his fingers absentmindedly, while Peter continues to goggle at him. 

He smiles softly when he speaks again. “I know that you have something of a tendency to compare yourself to your friends, Peter, so if I might use that comparison to make my point?” 

Peter can only nod dumbly, but Dumbledore just smiles again and carries on. 

“Splendid. While I am very fond of Sirius Black, and am sure that he will make success for himself one way or another, he is perhaps the most reckless, impulsive student that has ever graced the halls of this school. Entertaining, certainly, but deeply unsuited to the kind of long-term deception and day-to-day drudgery that this task requires. Black would get himself or others killed within a week, I’m quite sure of it. James Potter would do somewhat better, I believe, but not by much. He is the absolute personification of Gryffindor House in many ways, James Potter, and I know that you have secretly lamented this on more than one occasion.” 

Peter feels his face flame with the knowledge that he has been so transparently envious. 

“However,” Dumbledore continues, “that very Gryffindor tendency to see the world in moral absolutes would not serve James Potter well in this instance. What I’m asking of you would require the ability to operate in a murkier moral grey area. Now, you might say, doesn’t that sound like a job for Remus Lupin?” 

Peter shrugs – that was exactly what he had been thinking. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be wrong,” Dumbledore nods, “but Mr. Lupin is at a distinct disadvantage in two ways. The first, of course, is no fault of his own – his lycanthropy. It would become immediately suspicious when he disappeared at every full moon, and I needn’t tell you what would happen should he be discovered by this particular cohort.” 

Peter shudders involuntarily. He doesn’t need any reminders there. 

“Furthermore, Mr. Lupin is prone to bouts of self-flagellation that would significantly impair his effectiveness. There is a certain skill in pushing through and doing what needs to be done, no matter what. I doubt this is a skill that Mr. Lupin could maintain in the long term. It is, however, a skill that I see in you, Peter. Even beyond the ease of putting you into place, I truly do believe that you are most suited to this task.” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Peter is surprised when his voice doesn’t shake as he speaks. “You think I’m suited to spying? I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.” 

Dumbledore only smiles placidly, though his expression is serious when he responds. “Regardless, should you choose to take me up on this offer, I genuinely believe you could help turn the tide of the war, Peter.” 

“I want to help, sir,” Peter swallows hard, “but everyone will think I’ve run off to join the Death Eaters. I don’t know if I can live with that.” 

Dumbledore nods, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, I’m afraid that would be unavoidable. Ultimately, you will have to decide if you’re willing to deceive those you love, with no guarantees as to when – or if – they will find out the truth. For the greater good, if you will.” 

“Can I take a day or two to think on it, sir?” 

Leaning forward onto the desk, Dumbledore assesses Peter in a vaguely disconcerting way, before leaning back into his chair and nodding. 

“Two days, Peter. I cannot wait any longer than that, I’m afraid. Also, you must not discuss this with anyone – on that point I must insist most strenuously.” 

Peter nods, shaking as he stands. “Of course, sir, I promise.” 

Dumbledore smiles again, eyes twinkling and watching Peter as he exits the office. 

Once he is out of sight of the gargoyle that guards the Headmaster’s office, Peter allows himself to slide down the wall, burying his face in his hands. This is his chance to do something real, something meaningful, helpful, and good – to well and truly step away from his family and do something because _he_ believes in it. But if he does, everyone he really cares about will think he’s betrayed them. Will think he’s just a spineless, pathetic, coward who took the easy way out. And while he knows that it’s a pretty small trade-off in the grand scheme of things, the idea still sickens him. 

But Peter knows – he _knows_ – that this is the price he’ll have to pay. There’s an honest to Merlin war on, and if he wants to be able to live with himself after it’s over, he’s just going to have to deal with everyone thinking he’s a coward – he's got some practice, after all. 

Before he even picks himself up from the floor, Peter Pettigrew has made his decision. He will help Dumbledore. He will write his brother back to confirm his place with the Death Eaters. He will run off after graduation. He will live among people he finds vile and repulsive, and he will report back. He will turn spy. And damn it if he won’t do it better than anyone else could.


End file.
